He drank what he drew

From metaphor

He went out on a journey

Disrobed a stripe

And the stripe

Was broken

There was not one straight

Line to stand on

So he sprinted up a monolith

Back flipped onto a monomyth

He thought am I trying

To understand

Or am I trying to go around

Or go against it?

He wanted to break

The monomyth

But every time he struck it

The more uncreative and

More un-understandable

It would get

It occurred to him

That he might have missed

By a hare’s breath

It also occurred to him

He was fragmented

His journey became

An un-narrative

clburdett, 2016

Sorry Universe

I think I will re-gift your offering

And flip you the celestial bird 

Twelve tons of regret on my chest 

And vomit at a low boil

Is plenty enough 

You've done too much already

Yeah, thanks

But no thanks 

clinging

to

regret

is

like

clinging

to

a 

ball

of

solid

ice - 

you

can 

try

letting

it

melt

in

your

hand,

or

you

can 

simply

toss

the

little

fucker

may the shit i say

make its way into the books,

fuck up history so much it rocks the world off its axis and topples atlas onto his goddamned head,

causes zeus to choke before he devours his children.

poetry is longevity in its gristliest form

and these lines are some enduring motherfuckers plucked fresh off the bone—

hard to swallow,

tough to chew.

some sons of bitches claim words these days ain't shit compared to whitman,

i tell them jesus was a bastard, just like me and you

and his word is gospel.

so i'll celebrate my goddamn self

and make this life a classic,

strip my soul and sell its pieces until there's so much of me exposed that it's pornographic

and my sobs need to be censored

with dial tones.

heart on sleeve, xxx.

i want to be a sell-out for the feeling,

claim i'm a poet but keep my heart open for the stealing,

say i'm a heathen but love my love like religion.

god,

i hope he hears me.

i pray one day my mouth will give more air than what it takes from my suffocating brothers and kindle more fires than the flames it smothers.

i pray that if all my flaws and fortes are placed on a balance,

i will weigh more than my limits—

i will be too fat for the wind to carry,

too colossal to be anything insignificant,

too big to be small.

i pray that one day i will melt the degrees of separation between who i am and who i want to be

so i can be the first beast to say

i didn't save myself for slaughter,

so i can declare my findings to the demons i've expelled and the fellow waning souls i've culled like ships to a lighthouse,

"i made it to the end, and it's beautiful."

I have a roommate

who believes she lives alone

Though I've never made

my presence known to her

She finds comfort in me

and talks to me as if

she knew I was listening

I can feel her staring at me

Sometimes for what

seems like hours

Searching for something

beneath the white paint

If I could only leave this room

I'd go out and find

her the help she needs

I hear it all

The 1 am drunkenness

The 2 am screaming

The 3 am crying

The 4 am pleas

But what I hear the most

is the silence while she

fights the battle within

Alone

In a dark room I cry

Wishing

That I would soon die

I cannot take this anymore

What is it I am living for?

Loneliness

Consumes my soul

Emptiness

Shakes and breaks what's whole

Sadness

Overwhelms my brain

Anger

Turning me insane

Is there anyone out there

That would truly care?

Understand

The real me

Love

The things no one else can see?

I search and search, but I cannot find

Aceeptance, love, and peace of mind

Alone I cry and alone I break

The sickness seems to take and take

'Till I'm nothing more than an empty shell

Trapped in my own living Hell

Here today, and gone tomorrow

He's just a flash in the pan

Beg, steal; but never borrow

He doesn't want to be an also-ran

From the bottom to the top spot

He is a modern disease

Got a nose job to keep the girls hot

But really he's living on his knees

Modern man - full of confusion

Modern man - with no solution

Modern man - tripping over his feet

Modern man you're almost obsolete

He's the latest and the very last

Seen and done it before

Likes to think he's an iconoclast

Would be too, but he's a maddening bore

'Give me your name, and give me your number

I'll call you later today'

Sometimes I sit and wonder

Am I too just another cliche

You're a modern man - with no direction

Modern man - a wireless connection

Modern man - such a head for heights

Modern man and his lonely nights

He's the one who'll be on your side

Only if he's in the chair

Even hammers couldn't dent his pride

It's sharper than the parting in his hair

You may come and you may go now

Having taken your chances

Stop, look; and you will see how

He's alone when he dances

He's a modern man - it's his calling

Modern man - now he's falling

Modern man - like a Beaujolais

Modern man only good for the day

Modern man - for your perusal

Modern man - expect refusal

Modern man - one last crescendo

Modern man? I don't think so...

About 40% is 'Moderne Man' by M

About 60% is mine.